Sammy and Mac
a shupimta column by Chris Jungle

It was one of those summers. One of those staying in the sun too long, melting in the shade, working just enough to get by, watching World Cup soccer, reeling from political scandals and admissions, loving nothing more than the sun setting, hating nothing more than being stuck in artificially climate controlled buildings, pushing sanity a little past its boundaries, talking too much about random topics, and aging another three month summers. Aside from the fragmented incomplete sentences, I know probably the only aspect of the season that I will regularly recall from my memory is the home run race.

I wasn't prepared for it at all. I rooted for my teams like I always do, and they all made their statement of mediocrity by early June. The Albuquerque Dukes, my local AAA ball club, was even less competitive ending up 25 1/2 games out of first. I still went to six or seven games, and after losing every time, I was finally rewarded with a Dukes win my last time on Labor Day weekend. Even with my teams plummeting in the standings, Sammy and Mac kept me going.

Everyone had a favorite in the race for various reasons, and I heard a bunch. Some rational, some irrational.

"I'm rooting for Mac. Not many records are held by white athletes any more." (Probably a racist reason, but white people are very sensitive about the fact that they do not have the majority of the best athletes.)

"I'm rooting for Sammy because he's Dominican." (Usually stated by people who liked to travel more than they liked baseball.)

"I'm rooting for Mac. He came close last year, and he deserves it." (The hard work pays off idea.)

"I'm rooting for Sammy. He's just having a magical year." (The once in a lifetime idea.)

"I'm rooting for Mac. Look at his arms!" (The biggest man wins theory.)

"I'm rooting for Sammy. He's not taking that andro-whatever stuff." (The cleanest man wins theory.)

"I'm rooting for Mac. I love the Cardinals." (Cubs hating answer.)

"I'm rooting for Sammy. I'm a Cubs fan." (Tortured soul answer.)

"I'm rooting for Mac. He's a great father." (The mother answer.)

"I'm rooting for Sammy. He's looks great and is always smiling." (The wife answer.)

"I'm rooting for both. I don't care who wins." (The cop out answer.)

"Who's Sammy? Who's Mac? What are you talking about?" (Boring people answer.)

I rooted for Sammy since I saw him play against the Royals in late June. He went 1-4 with a sharp single in the first. Honestly, I wanted them both to break the record, but I had a hope Sammy would sneak ahead at the end. It looked likely when he hit 66. McGwire has the record though, and I don't feel bad about that at all.

There were days when I came home from working too long for too little of a reward to find out Sammy had smacked one or McGwire popped two out. It made me feel better. With every other channel dissecting the proper technique of cleaning up after blow jobs, sports casters were frothing about the long ball. With the stock market doing Superfreak, baseball was doing Can't Touch This. It's living vicariously through the achievements of others, but there's merit in that. We all need something.

This summer, I needed baseball. You needed baseball. We needed baseball. The United States needed baseball. And we got it. As good as the game will ever be.

Chris Jungle would like to invest the social security fund in a bet that Ken Griffrey Jr. will break the Home Run Record before 2010.

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